Both the Mandutari and the Nanutari keep slaves; this is just the way it is, and is not questioned.

The most common enslaved people are white-skinned, due to the fact that no white-skinned race (other than the olive-skinned Nanutari) have attained any recent or notable technological achievement, and are usually late-stone-age at best.The most common enslaved people by far are the people of West and Northwest (beyond the bounds of Nanutar), who have pale skin, curly blonde hair, and hooked noses.

Mandutari consider all light-skinned people to be inherently stupid and barbarian, and incapable of higher culture. Nanutari simply believe that those who have been conquered deserve to be enslaved. The trait of blue eyes is uncommon in both peoples; both peoples consider blue eyes to be a sign of dishonesty

Background:28 years ago, in the year 3642 on the Great Calendar of the Gods, a child was born in the province of Hiulan within the Llanei Empire. The proud father of the child was a young warrior in the service of the Grandee of Hiulan, the father of present day Kostaan, and his mother was a petite woman renowned for her great beauty and witty charm. In those days they knew happiness, for they had gotten their second son, and the love between the young parents bloomed and shone. The servants still tell tales of those days, and usually the tales are about his father. Their father would sing merrily as he hurried home after duty, and when he passed beneath the chrysanthemum trees of Winter Avenue, his eyes sought their abode, a humble dwelling they had gotten as dowry from his father in law. In those days his eyes had a proud and loving gleam whenever he spoke of or looked upon his wife and two sons. He was considered a blessed man, for he had the prettiest wife in the entire village of Haufein and, some said, in the entire province.

Years passed and their sons grew older. The oldest son proved to be much like his father; strong, courageous and skilled; a true warrior. From his mother he got a quick mind and a handsome face, and their father was proud, for this son had all he could wish for. Yet the second son, Xao, proved to be quite different. He resembled his mother in every way: He was petite and hauntingly beautiful, but his small frame and frail arms proved ill suited for combat and however they tried, they could not make a decent warrior out of him. From the age of seven to the age of fifteen he got drilled, exercised every day, yet he showed marvellously little talent and only with the spear did he ever show any skill. He proved to be a mediocre warrior, easily bested by warriors with but a fifth of his elaborate training, and his father grew resentful. He never beat his untalented son, but his words lashed viciously at the young boy who quickly learnt what a failure he truly was. Oddly enough there was little or no sibling rivalry and the oldest son protected his weakling brother wherever they went, more akin to a protector and a benefactor than any actual equal. Yet the love between the brothers remained profound and whenever Xao needed it, his brother came to his aid.

More years passed and the parents grew estranged as the mother resented the treatment their youngest son received at the hands of the disdainful father. By now the father had been sworn into service of the new Grandee, Kostaan, as he succeeded the old Grandee after his fall in the battle of Dhengxao. They had moved away from Winter Avenue and the village of Haufein, and now they resided within the compound of the Grandee, as his father had become a veteran sergeant of the Grandee’s guard. Increasingly often the father slept on the silken mattresses of his concubines, instead of the cold bedroom he shared with his ageing wife. Still their old love sometimes sparked and on occasion the parents would sit forehead against forehead, streaks of tears on their cheeks, whispering about the past and the great love that once was.

At the age of fifteen Xao took the wows of a Priest and entered the clerical ranks as an acolyte. Every third month his mother and brother would visit and they would sit on the grassy meadows, where they would drink tea and eat the spicy biscuits produced in Haufein, biscuits who brought back memories of happier days and their mother would cry and laugh. It was a happiness of sorts, yet the absence of the father painfully reminded them that a new age had come. Meanwhile Xao did well as an acolyte. His magical aptitude earned him apprenticeship with the temple sciomancer and he was tutored in the arts of necromancy and divination. He never learnt any other fields of magic, though his master made sure he was knowledgeable about them. Alongside his magical training, Xao was taught the art of acupuncture, massage, herbalism and first aid, and his natural healing talents proved to be very good indeed; with time his healing skills became secondary only to his sciomancer abilities. He was also taught in the ways of astrology, and soon he combined astrology with sciomancy to strengthen his divinations, yielding the most accurate Omen Priest divinatons for an acolyte his age. Sometimes he would employ his divinations to study his ancestors and he would divine the whereabouts of his brother as the army was sent to war in every odd corner of the Empire. These discoveries he wrote down in weekly letters to his old, worried mother, who greatly appreciated his efforts. Additionally the lithe young man excelled in the ritual temple dances and with time he became the prime male dancer of their ceremonies. His hauntingly beautiful, feminine features, a legacy of his mother, caught the eyes of many a bystander and had it not been for his wow of chastity he would probably have married long ago.

Description:Xao is a lithe man, only 5’4” tall and weighing about 100 lbs. He is considered hauntingly beautiful and has strongly feminine features. His arms are frail and his legs are thin. In accordance to Omen Priest custom he keeps his scalp and face closely shaven. Most often he wears white flowing robes of silk with tiny, flowing, slash-marks of Old Jahi; an imitation of the Rib of God. The robe has a wide hood which is most often kept up, beneath which his delicately beautiful face is near always painted white with those snowy cosmetics the Mandutari favour. He prefers to walk barefoot, but wears beige leather boots in cold regions.

Present day:Years and years of meditation in dark chambers and an ascetic lifestyle has made Xao a silent man, primarily expressing himself through dance or by presiding over the ceremonies of the Ghost Gods. When he is travelling Xao performs blessings and weddings, horoscopes and minor healing in exchange for shelter, food or money. He will dance at religious festivals and he will recite sacred ancestral curses or parts of the Rib of God on occasion. He will soothsay on religious holidays or when a divination is sorely needed, though he expects some kind of compensation if the divination is not critical. He travels lightly, with only a spear for protection and a sling bag full of scrolls and tomes of knowledge, as well as a couple of spare robes.

He is currently performing a rite of initiation, a two year quest necessary for him to become an adept within the ranks of the temple. The quest has just begun and the hierophants have not yet fully explained the nature of his quest, but instead provided him with a cryptic scroll they claim he will fully understand in due time.

Ancestral Curse: "The blades of the Mandutari prove sharp, and the skill of the Xenxau prevail”

Echo,eh? With him around,we can expect things to spice up quite a bit.

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

I'm going to have to wait until the council is over,if I'm to bring in Zhan. Given that fact that he's a wanted man,it might not be a good idea for him to show up.

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Background:Llayarsh tl Maitan is a man filled with self-loathing. It is possible that no other person hates themself as much as Llayarsh tl Maitan, who for 10 years has not slept more than 5 hours in a week, who frequently balls his right hand into a fist so tightly that his nails make bloody marks in his palm, who has failed at every attempt at suicide only because he considers himself too cowardly to truly do the deed.In other words, Llayarsh tl Maitan is a broken man, a ghost among ghosts, who wanders in a daze through the streets of Biaxif. In the districts which he frequents there are many who know him simply as Maitan ateikaau, "sad Maitan", and there are many who wish only to comfort him and who consider themselves his friends, but Llayarsh tl Maitan does not understand any of this; he sees their sympathies as masked jeers, and thinks that his friends hate him and wish he would simply leave. He can often be seen sitting, nearly sprawled, in the caste-menial places, staring blankly into space, and responding vaguely and quietly to the words and questions of passers-by. He never laughs, rarely smiles, and then only swiftly, as if his sorrow seeps back in as quickly as a smile escapes. He sometimes stares at the palm of his right hand, at the red scars which his nails have carved into it. He is kind and polite, and unfailingly aware of caste. He never has a harsh word for anyone. He is always extremely kind to animals, and many street dogs and stray house-serpents know him as a fine way to get a meal. At times, though the climate in Biaxif be blazing hot (as is its wont), Maitan can be seen shaking and shivering intensely, and sometimes clutching his arms about him, as if to be warm.Maitan rises every morning and attends an extra three hours of morning temple, the extra three hours mandatory only to priests, because he cannot sleep more than two hours a night. He then generally goes to the House of Charity where he recieves a loaf of bread from the priests there, many of whom deeply care for him, and wish he would stay sometimes and talk of what it is that gnaws at him so deeply.One day, four months ago, Maitan did not come to morning temple early, and after prayers, he did not arrive at the House of Charity, nor did he go to the Street of Rythms where he usually sits and stares into space. Instead, he went northward up the Way of the Aspects until he came to the tall pillar where the emissary of the armies awaited. And there, after washing his face in a public fountain, he went to the levy-officer, and in noble Jahi-calligraphy, signed his name to the list. Very soon afterward, he bid adieu to all those he had known, saying that he was "going to the north to die".[OOC: Yes, I am leaving very much unknown about the character, but it suits my purposes]

Description:Llayarsh tl Maitan is unusually tall for a caste-beggar, and despite being somewhat thin in appearance, is clearly, or once was, a fit man, though not incredibly muscular. He has the triangular face and full lips of a southerner (though those lips are habitually very chapped and dry), and hazel eyes which are at turns blank and staring or deeply, deeply sad. His hair is unusual in that it has a slight reddish tinge to it's mellow brown, and is less curly than that of most Mandutari. He typically wears a knee-length tunic of dull blue-grey, and battered reed sandals. On his right wrist he wears a bracelet of green malachite prayer-beads, which are always immaculate and clean despite the rest of his appearance. Though he has donned the proper military tunic since he started his service, he simply wears it over his general garb.